


The Rot from Within

by Whisperlyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Castiel is Not Okay (Supernatural), Castiel was vibing in a corpse for a while, Jimmy is dead, What-If, Why don't angels just possess corpses, why don't we talk about that?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisperlyn/pseuds/Whisperlyn
Summary: Something struck me the other day. Castiel was yanking around Jimmy's CORPSE for a while. NO OTHER Angel really does this otherwise Michael wouldn't even bother with Dean's soul, he would've just had the body resurrected and taken it. WHY? Why does Castiel possess a deadman?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	The Rot from Within

Jimmy Novak died.

Castiel's all too still body looms ahead, like a statue—unmoving. 

“Jimmy…is dead. It’s just me in here”

What Castiel doesn’t mention is the abomination that he has become. 

What Castiel does not mention is that he has never known another angel to occupy a corpse. They needed the souls to still reside in them in order to operate. 

What Castiel does not mention is that…

He decides, at this moment, it doesn’t matter. It was not important in comparison to everything else going horribly wrong. 

He stays quiet. 

In their true form Angels loom above most man-made structures. Castiel’s primary limbs ebbed out of the fourth torso which could easily grab a building or two. The limb he used to grab DEAN though, his dean, the only dean, Dean Winchester, Dean—Dean—Dean—Dean, was a smaller tertiary arm that he formed from a wave, as gentle as he could make celestial intent. It still burned Dean. It burned him through and through until it ripped through his flesh. 

Castiel does not mention the way his minor wings flutter when he looks at his mark, seared into his DEAN. Castiel had not mentioned it to his human charges nor his superiors. 

Castiel begins to see the problems of Jimmy’s corpse. 

Without the soul, without the soul, without the soul, Castiel’s grace burns. He feels pain akin to the fire that glanced his sides in Hell. The vessel becomes heavy to maneuver in a way it never was before. 

Castiel carefully does not mention the sheer energy he is using to continuously maintain his Vessel. How much it burns. How his grace—his being—is screaming in a way that his humans can never hear. 

Castiel cannot leave the vessel. 

The angel prioritized the functions most necessary for communicating. The skin, the mouth, the tongue. 

It was only after Sam mentioned the smell of rot following them that Castiel hastily ditched the internal organs all together. 

Dean—Dean—Dean stares at him and this time, instead of grunting about personal space, he warily steps back. His eyes never wavering.

“Um, Cas? What’s wrong with your eyes?” 

Cas hastily tried to use his grace to scrub the milky film clouding the once bright cerulean hue. His knee buckles as a response—too subtle for any one to notice. 

“It’s fine”. 

Not even a day later, Sam stops his excited ramblings—the phrase left unsaid ringing silently throughout the room. 

“Dude? Are you okay? Seriously, you should’ve said something if you’re injured.” He hesitantly steps forward. 

His hand falters before gesturing at the Angel’s face. Not pale, it looked… gray and ashen. 

“I’m fine”. Cold, dead eyes staring back. He did not bother trying to fix this. It took too much effort to consciously pull and control blood flow, he didn’t even breathe anymore. Simply pulling the body—his vessel— _his_ body?—into walking behind the Winchesters was the deliberate action of a puppeteer trying to keep the strings from tangling. Every head tilt a slow, deliberate process. Every frustrating arm movement, every word gritted out through the odious task of lungs, air, mouth, lips, tongue, _saliva_. So much just to say _Dean_. 

Castiel is burning-burning-burning. The rot of the vessel starts to worry Castiel less and less. He willfully ignores the rot spreading. The smaller arm that Castiel had formed just to grab Dean with falls off. 

Castiel’s true form twists as they sing their mantra these past few months, willfully denying their reality.

DEAN DEAN DEAN DEAN DEAN


End file.
